


Aftermath

by Thiebes



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Aftercare, Bathtubs, Canon Disabled Character, Caretaking, F/M, M/M, Multi, lots of sand, reference to captivity, sand, silverflint, silvermadi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29674428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thiebes/pseuds/Thiebes
Summary: It had only been days without Silver in front of him, but Flint  couldn't take his eyes away.Flint gives Silver a bath after being captured by Israel Hands.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver, Madi/John Silver (Black Sails)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Aftermath

When night falls slowly over the island, cloaking it in darkness, they finally retreat into seclusion. 

It had only been days without Silver in front of him, but Flint couldn't take his eyes away. As Silver sunk readily onto the bed, his eyes closed, Flint took note of his movements. The soft sigh that escaped his lips, the crease in his brow, the small shake in his tired limbs. Flint moved over to him. He had asked before on the beach, but he hadn’t yet checked Silver himself for injuries. He reaches a hand out and gently touches Silver's temple. He's still shocked to see Silver sitting there before him. His chest was tight with it. Silver looked up at him with those dazzling blue eyes. 

“There's sand in your hair,” he says. 

“I was dragged across the beach and held there for days.” Silver regards Flint with a wry smile. 

He stops when he sees the intensity of Flint's gaze. It's part awe, part agonizing concern. 

Flint lightly runs a finger over the bruise blossoming on Silver's cheekbone. “I thought I'd never see you again”. Silver winces and looks away. He doesn’t say how he thought the same thing, how the thought of being wrenched from his and Madi’s side ached like nothing he’d ever felt before. How he felt that even death’s cold hand barely held a candle to it. 

There’s a bath simmering on the other side of the room. Flint looks over to it, Silver’s eyes following, and he knows it’s for him. 

“May I?” Flint asks in the gentlest of tones. He tugs at the lapels of Silver's coat. 

Silver nods and lets him slide the garment off his shoulders. He makes a face as his shoulder twists in the wrong way. Flint runs his palms over the aching joint, applying the barest pressure. Silver relaxes just a little. 

Flint's warm hands run down the length of his arms, a curious expression on his face. 

There are bruises forming on Silver's wrists where the chains had held him. Flint's fingers find these too, and run over them gently. He lifts Silver's wrist to his lips. He is angry at the sight of them, and at the split in his lip, and the bruises. He knows how roughly that man had touched Silver. He wants to return the favor. 

Somehow, in the short span of time he was with Israel Hands, he had somehow convinced the wretch of a man to follow him. Flint shouldn't be surprised by how readily Silver won people over, but he marveled at it. The power that Silver unwittingly yielded was truly something. 

He wraps his arms around Silver’s waist, his fingers grasping the gentle folds of his shirt as it sticks out of his breeches. “And this?” he whispers into Silver’s temple. Silver shudders at the warm breath on his skin. 

“Yes,” he says weakly. And Flint slips the shirt from its hiding place, his hands brushing the exposed skin underneath. Silver closes his eyes and leans into it, pressing his temple against Flint’s chin, only breaking apart to let the shirt slip over his head. 

It's a warm night, but Silver shivers. Flint’s fingertips are on his bare back, barely touching, as if he were afraid that silver would disappear like a puff of smoke. 

New bruises are exposed by the removal of the shirt, and flint’s fingertips move to touch each one gently. “I’m sorry,” he says as he presses his lips to a large purpled spot. “ I should have-”

“ Don’t be,” Silver cuts him off. He guides Flint’s back up to eye level and presses their foreheads together. “None of this is your fault.” 

“None of this went how it should have,” Flint says, closing his eyes. 

“I know,” He cups Flint’s face in his hands. Flint sighs deeply. “We’ll get through this. Nothing is inevitable, remember?” 

Flint’s eyes flutter open to look straight into Silver’s. Silver is shocked at how vulnerable he looks in this moment. His thumbs brush over Flint’s cheeks. 

“Do you believe in this? In us? In what we are doing here?” 

“I believe in you. I believe in us. No daylight between us.”

Their noses brush. Flint’s hands tighten around silver’s waist, pulling him closer. He looks at Silver with such reverence and hope that it threatens to crush the two of them. Silver leans forward and presses his lips to Flint’s. Flint melts into him immediately. 

Silver relishes in the touch of warm hands over his back, pressing him into Flint. Flin’ts mouth opens and allows silver to chase him there, flitting his tongue in and out of his mouth. Flint returns the fervour, leaning forward and devouring silver. He presses a knee in between Silver’s thighs, and they are tumbling down onto the bed. Silver’s hands palm over the bristles of Flint’s shaved head. They begin to rock against each other, building a rhythm like the deep sea. 

Flint goes to bite at Silver’s lip and tastes blood. He pulls away as if remembering where he is. 

Silver looks up at him in concern. “Something wrong?” 

“...you’re getting sand all over the bed.” Silver rolls his eyes and slaps him on the arm. 

“And,” Flint looks at him sternly, eyebrows raised. “ the bath is getting cold. You should get in before all my hard work is wasted.” 

“Well then help me out of these and I will,” He glances down to his breeches. Flint drops to his knees and begins unbuttoning them, rubbing a hand over each one softly, and silver sighs and lets his head fall back onto the bed, sand be damned. 

When Flint finishes the last button, he pulls the flap down, releasing Silver’s length with a gasp. He’s half hard, and absolutely beautiful. Dark rose velvet flesh on a bed of inky black curls. Flint places a kiss on the tip, tugging the breeches down to Silver’s thighs. Silver’s hips just up at the touch of his lips, and he moans softly. 

Flint closes his eyes and drinks up the sound, memorizing it. He pulls the breeches down further, being extra gentle around the stump. Once Silver is free of them, he slides his hands up silver’s body, up over his chest. He feels so good he almost can’t stop himself. But he didn’t haul all that hot water in here for nothing. 

He plants a kiss on Silver’s chest. “Come on, bath time.” 

Silver sighs so deeply it's almost a pout. But he lets Flint pull him from the bed and lead him to the bathtub, which is , thankfully, still steaming. 

Silver sags against the hot water. Without Flint’s hands on his body, he can feel how much his muscles are sore and aching. After nearly drowning, being captured, the confrontation with Max, being chased by redcoats, and the trek to safety, Silver was worn out. The heat from the water softens him up, and exhaustion washes over him. 

Flint runs a soapy rag over Silver's body like a caress. The dirt and grime and sand disappear into the water. He grabs a pitcher and pours it over Silver’s head, and begins to work the sand from his scalp. It’s a painstaking process. When he is finished, he finds silver’s head drooping against the side of the bath. 

“John,” he whispers, running a hand along his cheek. Silver’s eyes shoot open, then immediately close again as his head lolls to the side. 

Flint clicks his tongue. He taps the side of Silver’s face. “Come on, your majesty,” He says a little louder. “ Don’t make me leave you in here.” Silver wakes again, and stays a bit more coherent this time. 

“Do that, and I’ll kill you,” he mumbles. 

“I’m shaking in my boots,” Flint replies, the fondness seeping into his voice. “come on.” He lifts Silver from the tub and dries him with a towel. Silver leans a hand on Flint’s shoulder as he helps him into his bedclothes. It mirrors their routine on the warship, during those months when Silver’s leg was healing. Only this time there was true trust between them, and the absence of the rolling, rocking sea. It was a testament to their routine that Silver could do this while mostly asleep. 

Flint leads them over to the bed, and Silver collapses onto it. The weight of the last week weighed heavy on his body and his mind. He is asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. Flint removes his boots and jacket and lays down beside him. He wraps his arms around Silver and wonders at the strange way the world rewards the wicked. 

A little while later, the door creaks open, and footsteps pad their way inside. Madi lifts the covers and slides into bed on Silver’s other side. She brushes the hair from his face and drinks in the sight of him. Flint knows she is just as relieved as he is. They share a look over Silver’s sleeping form. No words are spoken, but they don't need any. They have him back.


End file.
